


The Art of Self-Defense

by river_soul



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Author knows nothing about self-defense, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Restraints, She was looking for an excuse to write smut, Use of handcuffs, improper use of a free weight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:43:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28682742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/river_soul/pseuds/river_soul
Summary: When you accepted the job as head of PR for the new Avengers Initiative there was no mention of the need to pass some insane fitness and self-defense test, especially not one conducted by the Black Widow herself. What happens when Natasha is unexpectedly called away on an urgent mission and Bucky steps in to become your new trainer?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 137





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> One day I will write a story without Natasha involved but today is not that day. Thank you @whisperlullaby and @syntheticavenger for being awesome cheerleaders!

6 am in the morning is an emotion, not a time you decide when your phone alarm goes off. It takes three separate tries for your sleep-addled brain to hit the off button as you roll over with a groan. It’s agony to have to be up this early and for a moment you sit in the warmth and comfort of your bed contemplating whether or not you _really_ need this job before you remember the mountain of student loan debt you still owe.

You don’t bother with a shower, you’ll only be a gross sweaty mess later but you do brush your teeth and wash your face and moisturize. You’re not an animal. There’s nothing to be done with the untamed mass that is your hair so you settle for pulling it away from your face before dressing in a pair of black leggings and throwing on a loose, long-sleeved shirt. Shoving your feet into a pair of tennis shoes you grab a water bottle and one of the weird granola bars your roommate swears by but you’re pretty sure is made of cardboard.

The drive to the compound is quick, you only pass one other car on the single-lane road. All the normal people are sleeping except of course for Natasha Romanoff, your own personal sadist. When you accepted the job as head of PR for the new Avengers Initiative there had been no mention of the need to pass some insane fitness and self-defense test. They’d wooed you with a talk of a comprehensive healthcare and dental plan and a big fat paycheck. It wasn’t until after your first week Steve informed you that you would be receiving private lessons from the Black Widow herself.

Today was your sixth session and while you’d never be a master spy or assassin you did have to admit you were slowly making progress towards being able to throw off an attacker long enough to call for help.

“Good Morning mistress of pain, what delights do you have for me today?” you asked Natasha as you pushed open the doors to the small workout room she favored.

The unexpected sound of a low masculine laugh makes you freeze and look up.

You’re surprised to find Bucky in place of Natasha, wearing a pair of loose grey sweatpants and sinfully tight red henley. His dark hair is pulled back into a small bun at the nape of his neck but a few strands have escaped, framing his face. He looks like a goddamn fitness model.

All you can manage is an unintelligent grunt of surprise as you stare at him, possibly a touch too long if the way Bucky’s smile disappears into a frown is any indication.

“Where is Natasha? Is this some kind of test?” you ask, looking around nervously, half expecting her to jump out from behind the stack of mats and scream ‘constant vigilance’ at you like some kind of deranged Mad-Eye Moody.

“Natasha was called away on an urgent mission last night. You’ll be training with me today,” Bucky informs you, picking up a plastic knife from the bench. “She updated me this morning on your progress. We’ll be picking up with disarming an attacker.”

“Cool, cool, cool,” you say, trailing off with an embarrassed wince when you see the way Bucky’s looking at you. Like you’re an idiot or something unwanted he’s found at the bottom of his shoe. You imagine he’s less than thrilled to be spending his Saturday morning training an out of shape civilian instead of saving the world from interplanetary threats or whatever it was he did for fun.

For once you miss Natasha, she at least seemed to roll with your weird humor. Bucky is entirely too serious and you know you’re going to have to get it together if you want to survive this training session with your dignity intact. There is also of course the added bonus of your crush on Bucky and the fact that the mere thought of him touching you or pressing his body close to yours is enough to make something warm and pleasant settle in your stomach.

Dropping your water bottle at the edge of the mat you take up a position across from him, arms raised like Natasha taught you. You’re about to ask him if he’s ready to start when he lunges at you terrifyingly fast. You twist away from him on instinct, but in your haste, you manage to trip over yourself and land on your ass with an undignified yelp.

“Jesus, warn a girl,” you snap before you can stop yourself, too surprised to censor your sharp tongue.

“Attackers don’t give forewarning,” Bucky tells you as he reaches down to help you up. The feel of his hand in yours sends a pleasant tingle down your spine that you try to ignore.

“Natasha does,” you mutter, wiping off the non-existent dirt from your pants.

“I’m not Natasha,” he says simply, dropping into a crouched position, knife at the ready again.

You sigh, mirroring his pose as you send a silent prayer to whatever deity is listening to make this quick and painless.

God must be dead you decided as an hour later you find yourself a sweaty, aching mess on the floor for all the wrong reasons. You’re 95% sure whatever dignity you had this morning is gone as you suck in air like a two-pack a day smoker and try to catch your breath. Bucky sits cross-legged on the floor beside you, not even having the decency to look sweaty or winded. You’re close enough to him that you can smell the faint woodsy scent of his cologne and it reminds you that you probably smell awful. You force your body into a sitting position with a groan, muscles protesting as you scoot away from him like a particularly slothful caterpillar.

“I hope Stark has good kidnapping insurance,” you tell him with a dejected sigh. “Cause I’m gonna need it.”

“You were passable,” Bucky says. “You were able to get the knife away twice.”

“Out of about 500 tries,” you remind him. One had actually been an accident but you weren’t going to tell him that you decide, accepting the water bottle he hands you with a thankful smile.

“You just need more practice,” he assures you. “Or you could always just nail them in balls like you did to me earlier,” he adds with the first hint of a real smile on his face as you choke on your water.

–

Next Saturday when you arrive bright and early for your session you try not to be too disappointed to see Natasha waiting for you. If she notices that you’ve taken the time to style your hair or apply mascara and lip gloss she says nothing, opting instead to jump right into your lesson. She puts you through your paces, testing and prodding your defenses as you cycle through several different attacks before she makes you spend 15 minutes on the treadmill.

“Am I going to be fired if I fail this little S&M experience that’s masquerading as self-defense training?” You ask Natasha from your position sprawled on the floor.

“Worse, I’m afraid,” Natasha tells you with a grin. “You’ll disappoint Captain America.”

“Fuck Captain America,” you moan, uncaring that Steve’s technically your boss or that Natasha is a coworker. You’ve spent every Saturday morning over the last two months getting pinned, thrown, and even choked out by Natasha’s famous thighs. You’re pretty sure you’ve earned the right to call her a friend.

“I’m sure he’d be amenable,” Natasha says with a suggestive smile you know is fake. You’re pretty sure she and Steve are seeing each other. Or at least sleeping together. Natasha may be a super spy but Steve sure isn’t and he likes to look at her when he thinks people aren’t paying attention. You might have found it sweet if Steve wasn’t to blame for your current predicament.

“Ugh, not my type,” you tell her, accepting the hand she offers to help you stand.

“More into tall, dark, and handsome?” she asks with an innocent smile. “Speaking of,” she continues on before you have the chance to say anything. “I’d like you to start training with Bucky on Tuesday evenings. You need practice with someone larger than me.”

You open your mouth to protest but she silences you with a single raised brow.

“I hate you and I’m going to accept every interview request I get for you from Fox News and Women’s Health from now until the end of time,” you tell her.

“People who threaten me don’t get breakfast,” Natasha reminds you as she leads you into the locker room. “Now hurry and shower. You smell and I want to hit that little farmer’s market before it closes.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pure smut. I’d say I’m sorry but that’d be a lie. Also, I know nothing about actual self-defense. This whole scenario is just an excuse for smut.

Your first Tuesday night training session ends just as miserable as the last time you worked with Bucky. You leave the gym feeling sweaty, achy, and incredibly aroused. 

Your cheeks heat as you remember the moan that slipped out when Bucky slammed you up against the wall harder than he intended to. If that wasn’t bad enough then the way you’d responded when he ran his hands over your face and arms to check for injuries sure was. Bucky didn’t seem to notice your strange behavior but you were ready to cry in frustration by the time you made it home. 

You’ve never been this turned on in your life and even after taking care of yourself in the shower you feel a lingering sense of desire. It’s never been like this for you before. Sure, you found other men attractive but it wasn’t this strange, all-consuming need like you felt for Bucky. 

It also didn’t help that he suddenly seems to be everywhere. You ran into Bucky in the cafeteria, the hallways, and even the parking lot. The worst is when you find Bucky training with Sam. You’re looking for Steve to sign some paperwork but you’re so distracted by Bucky that you manage to trip over a bench. 

Papers go flying everywhere and your yelp of pain is enough to bring Bucky and Sam rushing to your side. 

“You ok dollface?” Bucky asks, his brow creasing in concern as he and Sam help you stand. 

“Uh, fine, just fine,” you stammer, glancing up at him. There’s a flash of something heated in his gaze but it disappears so quickly you’re not entirely sure if you imagined it or not. 

You can feel your face warm up in embarrassment as you brush off their suggestion to sit and let them look at your leg which is bleeding freely. The thought of Bucky’s hands on your skin is more than you can take. You flee from the room, paperwork all but forgotten until you return to your office.

Sam, bless him, returns the papers to you later in the day. He even brings you a coffee and two pain pills, a bemused expression on his face.

\--

Your next Tuesday starts with a flat tire and ends with TMZ unearthing an old video of Tony partying with a senator that's currently embroiled in an embezzlement scandal. While it is not your worst day ever, it's certainly not your best either. By the time you make your way to the gym you’re way past frazzled and nearly 30 minutes late.

“Sorry,” you apologize as you enter, dropping your bag on the bench.

Bucky doesn’t seem annoyed but he also doesn’t look happy either. Of course, his resting facial expression is somewhere between murderous intent and practiced disinterest so it’s really hard to tell. 

“No knife?” you ask, noticing his empty hands and hoping tonight might be something easy.

“No knife,” he confirms with a hint of a smile. “We’ll be working on escaping chokeholds and some break out moves.”

“Oh,” you say, embarrassed to find your face heating up at the thought of Bucky’s hands around your neck. “That’s uh, probably good stuff to know,” you tell him, clearing your throat nervously. Christ. Was this a thing you were into?

Apparently, it was if the sudden rush of heat between your thighs was anything to go by.

“Ready?” he asks with a raised brow that is entirely too reminiscent of Natasha.

“As I’ll ever be,” you confirm with a miserable expression. 

You spend the next 30 minutes with Bucky’s firm chest pressed to your back and his hands on your body. It’s better than you could ever imagine but it’s the sensation of his fingers around the vulnerable expanse of your neck that makes a breathy sigh escape between your pressed lips. If Bucky notices he doesn’t react, walking you through the steps to throw him off and twist away. 

He’s warmer than a normal person, something you’ve noticed with Natasha too due to the serum. It makes it hard to remember you’re supposed to be getting away from him when he wraps a thick arm around your middle and puts pressure on your throat with his bicep. It takes you a moment to clear your thoughts before you step back into him hard, jamming the heel of your foot into his and using your momentum to break away and out of his hold. 

When you’re able to escape his grip a third time he gives you a rare smile that makes your heart flutter. You know if this were real you’d have no chances of getting away, but this little exercise is meant to help you escape from normal humans. Not super hot super soldiers.

“What’s next?” you ask, clapping your hands together as you step away from him to try and dispel the ache that’s developed between your thighs. It’s embarrassing how wet you’re getting.

“Lie down on the mat,” he instructs.

“Excuse me?” you squeak, eyes darting up to meet his.

“Natasha wants you to learn how to throw off an attacker if you’re pinned to the floor. It’s a good move for all women to know,” he says.

There’s a slight furrow between his brows when you hesitate before finally laying yourself on the floor awkwardly, arms to your side. You resist the urge to squirm under his gaze, feeling self-conscious.

“Relax,” Bucky tells you as he stands above you before dropping to his knees. 

“Right,” you mutter to yourself. How are you supposed to relax with him looming over you like that?

You can feel the sides of his calves brush against your thighs when he settles himself over you. He’s close enough you can feel the heat of his body on your stomach but not close enough to actually touch.

“Give me your hands,” he instructs.

The feel of his fingers encircling your wrist makes your stomach flip pleasantly. His hold is light until he leans his body over yours and presses your wrists into the mat firmly. 

“Now, your instinct is going to be to push up but I have gravity on my side. Start by twisting your lower half and bringing up your legs. You want to get a knee between us and shove up while you break out of my hold.”

At his nod to begin you do as he says but your movements are clumsy and you nearly jam a knee into his groin. He dismisses your mumbled sorry with a shake of his head, encouraging you to try again. It takes another three tries before you’re able to loosen his grip on your wrist. It takes another 10 minutes of trying before you’ve successfully managed to escape. 

“You’re doing good,” he praises before rocking back on his heels and standing up in one smooth motion. When you start to sit up he shakes his head at you. 

“Stay.”

Walking over to the bench you watch him rummage through a black bag, brows furrowed as he searches for something. You’re surprised when he pulls out a pair of metal handcuffs. 

“If you’re kidnapped you’ll likely be restrained,” he tells you. The intense expression on his face makes you press your thighs together unconsciously. 

“Ok,” you say, aware of how quick and shallow your breathing has become when he kneels over you again.

“Put your arms over your head.”

“Like this?” you ask, crossing your wrist above each other. 

“Perfect.”

Even though you’re expecting it you nearly jolt upright when his hands curl around your wrists and secure the handcuffs in place. The feel of the cool metal on your overheated skin makes you swallow thickly and your pulse quicken. 

“Now, try to escape,” he tells you.

With your arms restrained above your head you find it difficult to maneuver as you did before and instead of twisting away you end up almost buck him off. The movement brings your body in full contact with his and the hiss that escapes his mouth has your eyes dipping down towards his waist. The outline of his erection is crystal clear against his grey sweatpants. 

“Oh,” you breathe, tongue daring out to wet your lips as you squirm beneath him. Wide-eyed you meet his gaze. You expect him to be embarrassed or pull away but he remains where he is, his gaze intense. 

“Something distracting you sweetheart?” he asks, the timbre of his voice low enough for you to suck in a quiet breath in response.

“Yes. I mean no,” you stammer, your face on fire.

You’re unprepared for the press of his body against yours when he leans forward.

“You know, I can smell you,” he says, drawing a moan from you when he dips his head, ghosting his lips over your ear. 

You should be embarrassed by his admission but it only serves to turn you on more. When he pulls back a second later the cool air of the gym rushes between your bodies and you nearly cry out at the loss of contact. You feel his fingers flex around your wrist as he studies you carefully. 

“Do you want this?” he asks, his expression serious enough that you feel the haze of desire recede momentarily. You nod your head eagerly but he shakes his.

“Use your words,” he instructs. 

“Yes, god yes,” you breathe, straining against his hold.

Before the last word is out of your mouth he’s on you again, kissing along your jaw in a way that makes your whole body feel like it’s on fire. By the time he reaches your lips you’re arcing up desperately into him, begging for more. You nearly whine when he pulls away from you a minute later.

“Nat says you can be quite a handful. So I’m going to make this easier on both of us,” he tells you as you blink up at him in confusion. 

With his flesh hand on your forearm to keep you in place, Bucky reaches for one of the free weights stacked at the corner of the mat. You crane your neck to watch him place it over the thin chain of metal that links the cuffs together..

“Try to move,” he instructs, sitting back on his heels to survey you. 

When you try to lift your hands from the mat the handcuffs catch on the weight, restricting your movement. He smirks when you struggle to lift your hands a second time.

“I’m going to help you,” he says, settling his large, warm hands on your waist. “I know exactly where it hurts… gonna make it better,” he promises, moving down your body. You watch with hooded eyes as he slips your shoes and socks off before peeling your leggings and underwear off, baring you to his gaze from the waist down. 

His wide shoulders force your legs apart and he stills above your cunt, eyes closed as he breathes in deeply. 

“Fuck, you smell amazing,” he groans before burying himself between your thighs. 

He doesn’t waste his time finding a rhythm that has you gasping and twisting so much that he has to lay his metal arm across your stomach to keep you still. The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth on you and your own ragged breathing is all you can hear as you beg him for more. His flesh hand curls around your calf, urging you to throw your legs over his shoulder. When you cross your ankles together, trapping him between your thighs he moans, grinding himself against the mat. 

Your arms ache above your head and the skin of your wrist is raw from how it rubs against the metal handcuffs but everything fades away when Bucky works a thick finger inside you. Your whole world narrows down to the pleasure building in your core and the way Bucky’s tongue circles your clit faster and faster as he adds a second finger, scissoring you open. The mix of pain and pleasure have you bucking up into his mouth as he draws a thin, needy sound from your mouth that you don’t recognize. Your whole body tenses when he rolls your clit between his teeth, the pressure enough to make you come with a sob. 

Bucky works you through your orgasm with his fingers and tongue until your legs slip bonelessly from his shoulder and you’re begging him to stop. When he raises his head you can see his mouth and chin are shiny with your release. He surprises you by pressing a tender kiss to each of your trembling thighs before sitting up. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs approvingly as he rubs your thighs. "You did so well."

You let your head fall back on the mat then, trying to catch your breath.

When you open your eyes again Bucky’s pulling a condom from his pocket, a questioning look in his eyes. You realize suddenly just how vulnerable you are. Naked and tied down, you’re completely at Bucky’s mercy but instead of fear, you feel another rush of desire. You know if you asked him to stop that he would, despite how badly you know he wants you. You can see a dark patch on his sweatpants and the thick outline of his cock. Your cunt clenches around nothing and you can’t stop the low sound of want you make. 

“I need you inside of me,” you tell him, too turned on to be embarrassed by how wanton and desperate you sound. “Please.”

“Anything for you sweetheart,” he says, his tone deceptively light but you don’t miss the slight tremor in his hands as he rips the foil packet and frees his erection from his sweatpants. You draw your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch him roll the condom on, squirming in anticipation.

When he sinks inside you slowly, eyes closing with a groan you let loose a breathy moan. You’re so wet that he meets no resistance but you know he’s big enough that you’ll feel every inch of him tomorrow. Heat races up your spine and warmth blooms in your chest as Bucky leans forward, covering your body with his. He draws himself out of you slowly, letting you feel the drag of his cock against your walls only to snap his hips forward roughly a second later. He sets a brutal pace, the sound of skin slapping together mixing with both your moans and ragged breathing. When his lips find yours, he forces his tongue in your mouth. You can taste yourself on him and he only pulls away when you feel like you might pass out from lack of air.

“You’re taking me so well, sweetheart,” he encourages as he leans back on his heels to watch where he disappears inside of you. “Fuck you feel good.”

He curls a hand curls around your thigh, opening you wider and allowing him to reach deeper. You feel another orgasm building and you urge him on by pressing your heels into his lower back. When he slips a hand between your bodies, thumb pressing down hard on your clit he draws your orgasm to the surface. You come with his name on your lips. 

His rhythm starts to falter a moment later and Bucky leans forward, his mouth finding the fleshy juncture where your neck meets your shoulder. You feel his teeth scape over your skin as he comes with a drawn-out moan against your neck. 

You lay together like that for a few minutes, both of you trying to catch your breath. When Bucky sits up he reaches for your wrist, freeing them from the weight that’s kept your arms stretched out behind you. They ache from the odd position they’ve been forced into but Bucky kneads your sore muscles with eager fingers. 

“You gonna teach me how to get out of these next?” You ask, shaking your cuffed wrists. 

“Now where would be the fun in that for me?” He returns with a grin.


End file.
